


Werewolf Tony fic

by delusionalbookworm



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 10:25:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11712486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delusionalbookworm/pseuds/delusionalbookworm
Summary: Honestly, I don't know any more than you do what this thing is about





	Werewolf Tony fic

Afterwards, whenever he was telling this story to anyone, Steve always found himself on the defensive. “How did you not notice one of your best friends was a werewolf?” He always felt them asking, even if they didn’t use those exact words. Well, for one thing, he hadn’t even known that they existed until he saw Tony transform for the first time.

For another, even if he had known, Tony hadn’t shown any signs. Obviously, he disappeared during the full moon, but he also disappeared for sex marathons with strangers, and science conferences; to recover from hangovers, and sometimes just because he preferred the company of the robots in his workshop to the company of the people he knew. So, it really wasn’t that suspicious when he wasn’t around for however many full moons in a row. And while we’re on the subject, who keeps track of the cycle of the moon anyway?

So yeah. Maybe Steve should have noticed something was different about him. That sometimes when he reappeared after a few days, he looked thinner, and exhausted. That he ate ravenously and that his voice was croaky and sometimes almost gone. But it never lasted long. 26 days out of the month, Tony was completely normal. More than normal. Tony was… phenomenal.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

One day, before Steve realised what Tony was, they were in the kitchen of Stark tower, arguing, as per usual. They were just back from a mission, both still suited up, the same as after any other mission, except for the fact that Tony was covered in slime, and Steve had not given Tony chance to take a breath before turning on him.

“What the fuck did you do that for? It was completely reckless! You nearly got yourself killed!” Steve started, his nostrils flaring when he saw Tony roll his eyes at him.

“Golly, mister, that never occurred to me! I just dived into that monster’s mouth because I thought its throat would make a great slip’n’slide.” Tony snapped back, his voice dripping with sarcasm, before his tone suddenly changed. “For fucks sake, Steve, I had a plan! And in case you didn’t notice, it worked. So why are your panties in a bunch? We all risk our lives doing this job. That shouldn’t be new to you.”

“It isn’t. I know that there are inherent risks with what we do. But recently, it’s seemed that you have an actual death wish. Diving into this monsters mouth to blow it up from the inside out.  And last week, you tried to take on that 50-foot robot alone. And the amount of times you’ve taken on the Hulk, despite how many times we’ve seen what he could do to you if the worst was to happen.” Steve wasn’t angry anymore, he’d stopped yelling. He was just so weary. He was supposed to be the leader of the Avengers, part of that meant keeping his team safe. But Tony had turned into such a loose cannon, he didn’t know if he could keep him safe anymore. Tony noticed this change in tone, saw Steve’s shoulders droop, saw him close his eyes and drop his head into his hands, and suddenly he lost any will he had to fight. Instead, he needed to explain himself.

“Steve… Steve, I just… Today, the monster, the only way I could see the fight ending was by ripping its heart out with my bare hands. Well. Armour-coated hands. And the robot, that wasn’t just recklessness either. I needed to keep it away from civilians before it could do any more damage, and I didn’t know where you were, I didn’t know how long I could afford to wait. And Hulky. He’s different. He never means to hurt me. He’s never done more than break an arm. Really, he’s a big softie.” He sighs, tugging his helmet off and leaning back against a counter. He hated seeing Steve like this. Not angry; anger he could handle. This was different.

“I get it. You want to protect everyone else. You just. You have to protect yourself as well.” Steve looked up at him, managing half a smile, his face still caked in grime and crusted blood from the fight. Tony smiled back, pulling a gauntlet off so he can run his fingers through his sweat soaked hair.

“I know. I will.” Tony said, as he made a certain gesture that made the entire suit fall off of him, and then another that sent the pieces whizzing down to the garage to be stored. Steve watched them go, marvelling at the technology that Tony created. He would never be able to fully understand how they worked, but as an artist, he couldn’t help but appreciate their beauty, or how perfectly each piece fit together, almost like Tony had been born with this second skin. Not that he’d ever tell Tony he thought that. His ego was big enough as it was. Luckily, Tony had turned to make himself a cup of coffee, so he hadn’t noticed Steve staring at his invention. Nor would he catch him staring at the inventor himself, or the way that skin-tight under-suit clung to him, his muscular back, and down to the curve of his ass. Right there, that was another piece of beauty that Steve had to appreciate. You know. As an artist.

“I’m going to hit the showers.” Steve said abruptly, quickly turning to hide his reddening cheeks, and hurrying out of the room.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the shower, Steve let down whatever guard he’d had up before. He slowly leaned forwards, eyes closed, until he was immersed in the spray, the warm water pouring down his back, carrying away dirt and sweat and dust. He let out a little sigh at that, his muscles throbbing slightly after what he’d just been through, and his mind starting to check out, drifting somewhere else as he let the water do its job. And, as his mind often did when he wasn’t concentrating on anything else, it returned to Tony. When he’d first met Tony, he felt a strange feeling that he’d never felt before. It was the urge to punch someone in the face, and grab them and kiss them all at once. He’d been going back and forth between both of those desires ever since. Today, he seemed to be focusing on the latter.

He opened his eyes, looking down to see himself slowly becoming more and more aroused. Well. He was in here alone, he may as well enjoy himself. Closing his eyes again, he lets his mind conjure up a fantasy for him.

“Hey, Steve, all the other showers are full. It okay if I hop in here with you?” He pictured Tony saying, his voice outside the bathroom door. Before Steve could answer, Imaginary Tony has already walked into the room, stripped off and hopped into the cubicle with him. It’s a tight fit, and they’re only inches away from each other as they cleaned themselves.

“You sounded stressed earlier. I can help with that.” Imaginary Tony offered, his breath hot against Steve’s skin, his voice low and sultry. It became clear how, as his clever, calloused hands were soon all over him, his fingers working in little circles and making his whole body sing, as Imaginary Tony massaged him. His actions drew a moan from Steve, which absolutely delighted Imaginary Tony.

“I wonder, if I can make you moan just with my hands, what noises would you make from my tongue?” He asked, his voice dripping with sex. And then Imaginary Tony was kissing his shoulders, the back of his neck, his goatee rough but welcome against Steve’s skin.

Not bothering to hide his groans, Steve touched himself at these images in his head, the thought of having Tony’s erection pressed against his ass making him whimper. One of his hands moved to wrap around his own cock and start stroking, the other was balled up into a fist and bitten down on, to try and stop himself from moaning Tony’s name. His hips were rocking of their own accord, thrusting forwards and fucking his fist, his breathing becoming more erratic.

In his imagination, it was Tony’s hand stroking him, that voice in his ear still there, muttering filthy promises and suggestions. The kisses turned to bites, Imaginary Tony sucking at his skin and grazing with his teeth hard enough to leave bruises. The bruises were intentional, to let the whole world know what had happened. Tony is a very possessive lover in Steve’s fantasies. He’s always coming up with reasons to give Steve hickeys in very visible places, to let everyone know who Steve belongs to. And then Imaginary Tony is pushing into him. In real life, obviously there would be prep, and lubricants, but in Steve’s mind, Tony is always ready to fuck him raw, and hard, until Steve is screaming and begging for mercy.

“Come for me. Right now.” Imaginary Tony ordered, forceful and controlling as always, and Steve did, reaching his climax with a groan, grunting as he stroked himself through the aftershocks, panting lightly.

“Fuck.” He muttered, after his mind cleared.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He never felt weird or dirty during these fantasies. That always came afterwards, where in the place of an afterglow there was instead wracking guilt. Growing up in a time of rampant homophobia, he had learned at a young age that his desires were wrong and unnatural, never to be acted on. He was still unlearning this, even in the modern day, where he’d watched the news, tears in his eyes, as it was announced that gay marriage had been legalised in America.

Worse than that, though, was the fact that Tony was his best friend. How would Tony feel if he knew Steve jacked off over the thought of him at least twice a month? Disgusted? Violated? In more optimistic moments, Steve let himself believe the answer might be relieved, excited, or even aroused at the thought of Steve touching himself. But he never hung onto those thoughts for very long. He wouldn’t want to encourage himself to actually say something to Tony. Because the answer would be no. He was certain of that much, that if he asked, the answer would be no.


End file.
